Somewhere Down this Road
by dragonifyoudare
Summary: After the Landsmeet and the Battle of Denerim, a certain drunk human finds his way to an alienage tavern and a new start.


Kallian Tabris was drinking alone. For most of the years since she had been old enough for more than a sip of hard cider from her father's cup, her cousin Soris had been her drinking companion, but Soris was off with a human woman he'd met in the aftermath of the battle with the darkspawn, so he wasn't available.

Shianni, another cousin, was usually up for a drink even when she shouldn't be, but Shianni was deep in discussion with the elder, her mug of ale untouched for once. Of all the people Kallian would have expected to throw themselves into the reconstruction efforts, Shianni was the last, but there you had it. Shianni was involved, so she wasn't available.

In the months since their arranged marriage, Kallian and her husband Nelaros had formed a strong bond of friendship, if not love. Nelaros had never been much of one for alcohol, but he used to come to the tavern with Kallian sometimes to talk and play a hand or two of Wicked Grace.

Nelaros was dead, so he wasn't available, either.

To be fair, Kallian wasn't so much drinking as she was staring into her mug. She'd come to this tavern, the less charred of the two the Denerim alienage still held, planning to drown her sorrows. Somehow the thought of drunken oblivion was less appealing when she looked at the other taverngoers. Many of them she knew, and many of those had lost far more than she had.

Three days ago, darkspawn had come pouring through the gates of the alienage, and the elves of Denerim had rallied behind Natia Brosca, the woman they were now calling the Hero of Fereldan, to push them back. Kallian had been in the thick of it, a cheap sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, using everything her mother had ever taught her about combat to stay alive. She wasn't sure when she'd lost track of Nelaros, but the next time she saw him he was a corpse with an arrow through his throat.

She'd promised to stay by him. So much for that.

None of the truly drunk customers looked like they were better off for it. Most looked quietly miserable. A few were louder, and one or two of those were laughing, but even with ale in them they sounded strained, like they were walking the edge between laughter and tears. Kallian took a sip of her ale, barely tasting it. She was, despite her intentions, still stone cold sober.

The door opened, letting in a rush of cool air and that smell of smoke that had been lingering everywhere since the battle. These were followed by a human, a man with a sword that Kallian instantly recognized as being worth more gold than she'd ever seen. With the careful, steady bearing of someone trying very hard not to look drunk, he walked up to a young woman holding two mugs.

"I," he said, rather too loudly, "would very much like to purchase a think. Er, drink. I would like to purchase a thrink."

The woman, who was a customer, stared up at the man blankly. Kallian glanced over at the tavernkeeper, but he was retreating to the kitchen with an armful of dirty dishes. No one wanted trouble, and a human in an elven tavern inevitably meant trouble of one sort or another.

With a sigh, Kallian pushed away from her table and walked over to the human, putting on the most unthreatening smile she could manage just now. She could probably convince him that an elven tavern wasn't worth his time, if he was anything like most of his kind.

He looked down at her with furrowed eyebrows. He was probably attractive, somewhere under the bruises. There were a lot of those, and not just on his face. His blond hair was dirty and the blood from a cut on his forehead had a hank of it sticking up at an odd angle.

"What the hell happened to you?" said Kallian, her intentions forgotten.

"Oh, I met some nice men with very strong opinions. Do you know where the ale is?"

"We're fresh out here, as it happens," said Kallian. "Why don't you come with me? We can go to another tavern."

"Do they have ale?"

"Sure, they've got lots of ale."

"Oh. Good!"

She managed to get him out of the tavern, down the narrow street, and halfway across the alienage's main square, but then he tripped on one of the vhenadahl's roots and fell to the ground. He pulled himself up to a sitting position against the huge tree and seemed content to stay there, no matter how much ale Kallian promised him. She even tried throwing in dancing girls, but that just made him sniffle.

"I don't want dancing girls," he mumbled to his shoes

"Fine, dancing boys, then," said Kallian, exasperated.

"No thank you. 's nice of you to offer. Girl I was interested in 's reeeeaaalllly angry right now," he said. "Shouldn't have talked about her like that at the last tavern, bu' I'm pretty angry too, you know!"

"Oh for the sake of… I really don't need to hear about your lady problems," said Kallian. "Come on, let's get you that ale."

"I haven't got any lady problems. Never even told her I liked her. Wouldn't have mattered anyway. Stone cold bitch. Wasn't ever goin' to be interested." His eyebrows knitted together in concentration and he looked up at her rather than at his feet. "Those two things are not related," he said, very deliberately. "She is a stone cold bitch, who, incidentally, prefers the company of women."

A drop of rain landed on Kallian's nose and she glanced up to find the stars obscured by clouds.

"That's great. Why don't we talk about it somewhere else? Nevermind what I said, you can tell me all about her." She couldn't just leave a drunk human in the middle of the square. Some of the kids around weren't smart enough not to harass convenient humans if they thought they could get away with it, and that could end very badly, especially if they started throwing things.

The human sat up straight.

"Natia fucking Brosca!" he shouted. "Here's to the Hero of Fereldan, who is a stone cold bitch and prefers the company of women!" Then he settled back against the vhenadahl, and by the time Kallian was done staring in shock he was asleep and snoring.

Kallian took a closer look as raindrops started to pepper the ground. Now that she had a hint of what she was looking for, she recognized the face under the bruises. He was one of the company who'd killed the Tevinter slavers.

That, she decided after some deliberation, was worth a night's rest somewhere dry.


End file.
